Swandive
by Ebony10
Summary: Lisbon's emotions slowly spiral out of control until she's losing it. Can Jane bring her back from the edge? Loosely based on the preview for 2x03.
1. Wet Feet

This is loosely based on the preview for next week (season 2, episode 3) that I saw only once and very quickly. It will be multi-chapter Also inspired by a song from Ani Difranco. I like the song so I'm using bits of it to inspire each chapter in this story. Not what I would characterize as a songfic, though. Hope you enjoy this story and the song if you to listen to it:

Triple w dot youtube dot com /watch?v=ohhilKJpgA4

It's just the track version I like plus some clips of a random comic book, but if you're interested that's where you can listen to it. This fic is likely to get emotional/angsty. Not exactly sure where it's going or if it will be Jisbon, but as it is me writing it that is always a possibility. :D Posted immediately after writing so let me know if there are mistakes. Dedicated to Kathi-Ann because I just love her _What If_ story. Promise the other ANs won't be so long after this!

"…**gravity is nothing to me, moving at the speed of sound; I'm just going to get my feet wet,  
until I drown…"**

**-Ani Difranco in **_**Swandive**_

**Chapter 1: Wet feet**

****************************************************

Teresa Lisbon knew it was stupid. God, did she know. But she just couldn't help it. Patrick Jane was getting closer to an addiction every day. And she hated what addictions did to people. She had seen it in her father.

Which is why she knew what a mistake it would be to allow herself any sort of addiction.

Least of all one that involved Jane. That was just twenty kinds of stupid.

But with every month, every week, every day, every _hour_ that she was around him it got harder and harder to resist. When she was around him, it seemed like time both sped up and disappeared. She felt weightless. Their unique banter and the charge in the air when they were together…well, in a weird way it unbound her from reality. Strange. The one man in the world who could single-handedly remind her of how harsh life was, _reality_ was, and he was the only one who could also make her forget about it.

She wondered if there was some kind of significance in that.

She wouldn't say they were some great unrequited love. In fact, she wasn't sure if love was even a part of it. She didn't know what they were, really. She just knew that they seemed to thrive off of one another. Even before Jane shot Hardy, they always had this sort of connection. A zing.

And she started to hate that she looked forward to it. That she worried about his safety so much. That she—they—relied on him so much. It scared her that because of him, she was starting to hate herself just a little bit, too.

She had worked hard to earn respect—both her coworkers' and her own. And simply because she was drawn to her consultant, she felt that slipping. The Red John case being taken away. The way Bosco looked at her in Minelli's office.

Jane's words about not being able to do the job without him.

God, was he right? Why the hell was she still here if she couldn't even do the damn job?

If she didn't know Jane, had never met him, none of that would have happened. But, even so, she couldn't make herself regret having him in her life.

And that just pissed her off again.

She took a deep breath as she prepared to enter the bullpen, ready to steel herself against his winsome smile. Turning the corner, seeing said smile and mischievous, twinkling eyes directed at her, she mentally shrugged. Would it be so bad just to dip a toe in? Get her feet wet a little bit. It's not like she was diving into this addiction.

It's what happened every time.

It's why she couldn't knock it.

Why she felt so mad at herself every night when she went home.

Why a little voice inside always warned her that dipping her toes in could lead to things that were much worse.

After all, it's not like victims ever _planned_ to drown…


	2. Forgotten

In case you hadn't guessed, this fic will have some spoilers for Red Badge. I've tried not to read the real spoilers and have outlined most of the plot, but it may be a bit similar to the actual ep (as I found out when I stayed up late reading spoilers last night). Now just wondering if I should change my fic or continue…Anyway, setting the scene in this chapter…I'm so nervous and excited all at once for the next ep! And, obviously, I don't own The Mentalist or anything to do with them. Also, anyone know the name of the guy Lisbon is accused of murdering in the next ep?

"…**and I've got a lack of information, but I got a little revelation and I'm climbing up on the railing, trying not to look down."**

**Chapter Two: Forgotten**

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Lisbon had been avoiding an actual meeting with the psychiatrist. It was ridiculous. It was her job. Why would she be so traumatized by something that came with the territory?

It wasn't like _she_ had shot Hardy. And she had had guns pointed at her before. Danger was no stranger to her team. She didn't understand why this was such a big deal, but she knew that she'd have to bite the bullet sometime soon and attend an entire meeting so that she could finally—_finally_—put it all behind her.

"Boss?"

Startled, she jumped a bit before looking up at her agent's curious gaze. "Sorry, Rigsby. Just remembered something. Go on."

She listened with half an ear as Rigsby outlined the results of his interviews. Nothing too groundbreaking. Well, at least nothing that Jane hadn't already predicted. Damn it.

Couldn't he ever be wrong?

Her mind instantly reminded her of how he got during Red John cases—a little out of control, a slight bit irrational. A big reason why the case was taken away from them. Aside from her lack of ability as a senior agent, of course. Lisbon was sure that was the main reason they had lost the case.

A team that closed cases so quickly, but couldn't get a handle on one serial killer? She obviously was doing something wrong. Maybe she was too close to Jane. Maybe she couldn't see through his antics anymore. She was getting soft, trusting him too much.

Being manipulated by him?

She hated to think it, but that niggling voice in the back of her head refused to let it go. No, she couldn't let herself get too close to that edge. She wasn't sure if she could handle looking over, if she could handle whatever truth would look back. She shook herself, coming back to the sound of Rigsby's voice or rather the silence that had fallen after he had finished.

"Take Cho and check out the neighbors one more time."

He nodded. "Got it."

She pinched the bridge of her nose in her fingers, feeling a headache coming on as she watched him leave her office. Sighing, she reached tiredly for her coffee cup. The heavy ceramic mug knocked into a file as she set it back down and the papers fluttered to the floor.

She leaned over and picked it up, shuffling the papers back into the manila folder. Her eyes skimmed the case absentmindedly and her brow furrowed. Why was this on her desk?

That case had finished seven years ago—way before she was with this team. A child molester. A sick bastard put behind bars where he belonged. Shrugging, she tossed the file on her desk and decided to down the rest of her coffee.

It was going to be a long day…

*************************************************

She glared at her car. A flat tire. Great. Just what she needed.

She took a step towards her trunk to get the spare and stumbled. What…?

Leaning against the car to catch her breath, she blinked carefully. The dizziness seemed to pass and she straightened up and continued purposefully to the back of her car. Once the flat was changed, she was on her way, intent on getting home so she could cocoon herself in her lair and forget the world existed.

Or at least try.

She made it as far as her bed before she was out, unconscious to the world around her, lost in blackness until the next morning when she groggily opened her eyes.

Oh, she seemed to have forgotten the world existed, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she had forgotten something else. Something very important.

She hoped that, in the process of leaving the world behind, she hadn't forgotten herself.


	3. Stranger

Angsty Lisbon here. It will get better. Not so sure about this fic, but exploring a Lisbon that is losing control and thinking she's all alone. Soon, she'll find that she's not…because I'm a hopeless optimist (and shipper, lol, though I'm not sure this will be a romance). I have a plan. This was a challenging chapter to write. Hope it makes sense and you like it! Warning: swearing!!

"**I've had a little bit to drink and it's making me think that I can jump ship and swim, that the ocean will hold me, that there's got to be more than this boat I'm in."**

**Chapter Three: Stranger**

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Work was hell. In fact, the entire day had been.

She was a suspect in the murder of one of her previous criminal arrests. The man from the file that had been on her desk. To make it worse, there were several eye witnesses who had seen her in the area. And all she remembered from that night was a flat tire and passing out at home when she had made it there.

To top it all off, her head was driving her crazy. A constant dull ache that wouldn't quit. And her team had given her such looks today…

Even Jane. That look…pity, concern, contemplation. The contemplation was what got to her. Even her team was wondering. But Lisbon knew. She couldn't have lost it. She didn't kill that man.

Did she?

Why had the file been out? Why couldn't she remember? Was Dr. Carmen right? Had she been totally fucked up by the Hardy shooting and deluded herself so much that even she didn't see how far gone she was? She scrunched her eyes closed as if she could shut it all out. If only it was so easy.

She couldn't believe that she would do something like that. It just wasn't her. Was it? Viciously, she cut off that thought. No. No, it wasn't. She wasn't a vigilante. She served the law; her actions were carefully legal and just. She had dedicated her adult life to the Job. How could she…why would she—it just didn't make sense. If she killed every criminal who had gotten under her skin and then been paroled, she would have come up as a suspect far earlier.

And what would make this man so special?

Staring at the neon lights of a local bar where no one knew her name, Lisbon counted off all of the reasons that she shouldn't be there. The wetness of the street beneath her feet gave off a light glow, reflecting the streetlamps and headlights until she even saw spots of light when she closed her eyes.

What was going on with her?

In the end, she couldn't fight it any more than she could resist Jane and, as she sat at the bar sipping her drink, she felt frustration gnawing at her insides. She lifted her glass and held it to her forehead, focusing on the feeling of the cool, smooth surface against her skin. She had given _everything_ to her work. She took her position as a senior agent very seriously. By the book. Boundaries between personal and professional as much as she could. The only slips had occurred with the addition of Jane. And really, compared to what he had done with previous teams, they were really minor occurrences.

All she had put in and now...well, she had never expected 'now' to come in her life. She had never thought this would happen to her. When she had pictured this scenario, somehow it was always Jane being accused of murder. Red John's murder.

How had it come to this? Kicking back the rest of her drink, she set the glass on the bar counter. The startling clink of it hitting the wood only served to remind her of where she was, what she was doing. Laughing bitterly, she thought that maybe the apple didn't fall too far from the tree. She really was her father's daughter.

All these years trying to prove otherwise, telling herself that she was strong. A survivor. Not passive, but active. Not a victim. In control.

She was lying to herself.

She couldn't hold out against her strange addiction to Jane. She hadn't been strong enough to fight the call of alcohol tonight. She couldn't crack the Red John case. She couldn't control her consultant. She rarely had time for her brothers. She was being accused of murder and her team didn't even know if she had done it.

Hell, she was even questioning it.

It was enough to make her wonder once more why she was even there, working for the CBI. Was she someone else—not who her team had thought her to be? It made her head pound more just thinking about it.

Maybe she should take some time off, let Cho lead the team for a while. They would probably do just as well without her there. She thought about not being in the office everyday, not going in tomorrow morning. It terrified her that she couldn't see what she'd do otherwise. Jane's words drifted back to her from the day the Red John case had gone to Bosco. Maybe she was more like him than she thought.

She tried to imagine going off Jane cold turkey. Full stop. No more. Shaking her head, ignoring the way the world continued to shake even when she stopped, she decided that enough was enough. She needed to get out of this bar. Tossing some money on the counter, she stood and stumbled to the door. Wow, one drink and she couldn't even walk straight. She figured that was the world telling her not to become her father. Outside the door, she leaned against the concrete wall. Holding completely still, she tried to make the world around her stop, too. If it would just stop whirling around her. If it would just calm. If _she_ could just calm.

Damn it. Where was her prided control now? It decided to jump ship like everything else in her life. Lisbon tilted her head back, her hair catching on the wall's rough surface. Gazing at the starless sky, she thought that it was fitting. No light up there, just blackness. Rather like her life. A void with nothing to orient her, nothing to point her in the right direction.

Nothing to tell her the right path.

She sighed, knowing that she had to get home and get some rest. She'd be needed at the office tomorrow. If not for work, then for interrogation. Shoving off of the wall, she headed down the street. Maybe just the morning. She'd just give herself tomorrow morning off.

Then maybe she could try to fight the relentless waves of life that were pushing and pulling at her. She just had to remember that she was alone in this and then she could suck it up and move on.

Then maybe she'd find herself again.

God, it would be great just to _know_ herself again.

Because she had never felt farther from everyone around her. And when she looked in the mirror, it felt like she was looking at a stranger. She had never been an extrovert.

Strangers weren't her thing.


	4. Slipping

Wow, this is a long one. We'll start to find out what really happened in the next chapter. Poor Lisbon…

"…**that jumping is easy, that falling is fun—up until you hit the sidewalk, shivering and stunned…"**

**Chapter Four: Slipping**

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Lisbon lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She hadn't gone into work. At least not yet. And she couldn't sleep. So that left her alone with her thoughts and a silent apartment.

She jumped violently as she heard a distant thumping. Blearily, she realized that someone was knocking on her door. After laying there for a moment longer, contemplating ignoring whoever it was, she groaned and rolled out from under her blankets. She didn't even bother to change from her casual clothes as she went to her door. Opening it without even checking the peephole, she surveyed the person intruding on her solitude.

"Why are you here?"

Jane smiled at her, trying not to show how concerned he was at the fact that she hadn't even looked through the door like she normally did. Nor was she berating him for coming to her home. "Can't live without you, my dear Lisbon."

She barely raised a brow as she turned around. Now even more worried, Jane hurried in and shut the door behind him. He followed her to her living room, taking in the woman standing before him. She was out of it. Not the Lisbon he knew. He moved to stand in front of her, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. She jerked under his touch and tensed, eyes meeting his suspiciously. Well, he supposed that was more normal.

"I'm not hypnotizing you, Lisbon, so you can just relax," he spoke soothingly. Unlike normal, she didn't pull away so he carefully drew her body to his. She seemed to lean into him and he wrapped his arms around her, wishing she was in his embrace for a different reason. He was cautious in touching her, making sure to be calm and calculated. Soon, her body was lax and he led her to the chair by the couch. He sat on the ottoman in front of her. She seemed so small against the cushions and he felt his insides clench.

What the hell was happening?

He brutally cut off his thoughts, bringing his mind back to the matter at hand. "You're going to remain in this relaxed state while we think about Tuesday night."

He stared at her intently as she stirred slightly, eyes moving beneath her eyelids as if she were searching for something. For answers. Soon, her muscles were tightening and her head twitching in agitation.

"Think, Lisbon. Where were you Tuesday?" His voice was still quiet and modulated, but more urgent. Pressing.

"I—I don't know…Here? I—" She stopped abruptly. Her eyes fluttered, halfway opening. "I can't remember."

Jane felt his stomach clench at the distressed note in her voice. He hardly failed at this, but somehow he just knew he wasn't going to get anywhere. He looked at her. She was breathing heavier than she should be, obviously upset. Her hands settled on the arms of the chair, clenching. Coming to a snap decision, he reached out and placed his hands on top of hers. This was a very bad reaction to the trance. She must have some kind of block up.

Strange…

"It's okay, Lisbon. It's okay." She calmed slightly, but he couldn't bring her all the way down, couldn't bring her away from the anxiety like he wanted to. He gently pulled her onto his lap. She fit in his arms perfectly, curling in on herself the way he imagined she had when she was a small child seeking solace in her mother's embrace. It was heartbreaking to see his strong Lisbon this way. She was a rock and now…well, he wasn't sure yet what was going on, but he would find out.

He stroked her hair, being sure to touch her in all the right spots, being sure to bring her out of the trance. If only she could open herself to him—let herself be vulnerable—as herself, without any sort of psychiatric manipulation. He knew the moment she had come back completely. Her head rose to take in her surroundings. His eyes met hers and their faces were only inches away, breaths mingling in the air between them.

Suddenly, she jumped up. Pacing her living room with bottled energy, she let the words flow. "Sorry, Jane. I don't know what's going on with me. I just—I don't know."

Her last sentence sounded so defeated and combined with the fall of her shoulders, Jane couldn't help but feel intensely angry at whatever, _whoever_ would do this to her. That was exactly why he didn't believe in God. How could someone purposefully do something like this to Lisbon? She had the best of them all in her. He had never admired anyone else more. She didn't deserve this. His family hadn't deserved what they had gotten either. No. There couldn't be a God. And if there was, Jane was sure he never wanted to meet Him. How could someone be so cruel?

Jane stood. "Let's go, Lisbon. It's time to go into the office. Virgil wants to speak to you."

She cringed, thinking about the man who was a mentor to her. Sometimes a pain, sometimes a nuisance, but always a mentor. She sucked in a breath and nodded.

Time to face reality.

*****************************************************

"Your fingerprint is on the magazine of the murder weapon."

His words echoed in her mind. She hadn't been able to respond, hadn't known what to say. Was she capable of murdering like that?

She had headed to Dr. Carmen's office on Minelli's insistence.

"So you don't remember anything about Tuesday evening besides going home?"

Lisbon took another sip of the coffee he had offered her and nodded. "Right."

The psychiatrist regarded her silently for a moment before speaking once more. "You know that anything you tell me is protected under doctor-patient confidentiality, right?"

She tensed as she caught his meaning. "You think I murdered him?"

"I don't know, Teresa." She hated that he called her that. "Did you?"

Her hands tightened around the mug. "No! Well, I don't think so."

She sighed and continued. "I really can't remember."

He nodded, but before he could respond there was a knock. "Enter."

The door swung open to reveal Bosco. "Hello, Doc. Lisbon."

Lisbon nodded, eyeing him. She knew what was coming.

"Agent Lisbon," Bosco retreated behind titles to gain that desired professional distance, "would you consent to a polygraph?"

Biting her lip, she stood. "Yes."

"Follow me."

Nodding rather curtly to Dr. Carmen, she strode after Bosco. Before entering the room with the polygraph, a hand grasped her arm and turned her until she was face to face with Jane. Their gaze connected and she remembered that morning in her apartment. She turned away from him.

"It's going to be okay." His voice was insistent. She laughed. It was not the laugh Jane had come to love about her, but bitter.

"Right," she sarcastically threw over her shoulder as she entered the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

******************************************************

"You failed the poly."

She walked past Bosco. Minelli stopped her. "Lisbon, we're going to need to bring you down to interrogation."

Her throat was tight. She nodded. "Right. Fine. Could I—could I just get a moment, please?"

Minelli nodded, his eyes soft as he watched his best agent. She turned, ready to head downstairs to her office when she felt rather than saw the eyes of all the agents in the bullpen resting on her. She couldn't help it. She just lost it for a minute, yelling down to them.

"What the hell is everybody looking at?!" She stormed past her boss, ignoring the shocked stares of her colleagues.

Once in her office, she paced around. God, if she could lose it like that even for a minute maybe she could lose it another time. Maybe she already _had_. Maybe she had Tuesday. She ran her hands through her hair, frustration creeping up from its tightly bound knot in her stomach.

Shit!

She stalked to her desk and pulled out her gun. She set it on the desk and stared at it. Could she have pulled the trigger to kill someone without it being defense?

She lifted it, feeling the heavy and familiar weight of it. Had she pulled a trigger already? Had she murdered in cold blood? Had she become what she hunted?

She held the gun to her forehead, feeling the cool reality of it. Her office door opened and Patrick Jane walked in. He stopped in his tracks, surprised at what he saw. "Lisbon, what are you doing?"

Her eyes flew to him. What had he done this morning? Had he hypnotized her?

"My head is messed up and it's your fault," she said as she gestured with her hands. She saw the hurt on Jane's face before he schooled his expression. She turned away from him, putting both hands on her desk and letting her head hang. "Damn it! Is it my fault?"

She pushed the gun away from her. Her voice was small as she spoke again. "Is it all my fault? Did I murder someone?"

"It's not your fault, Lisbon," he said firmly. He wanted nothing more than to take hold of her again, wanted to just whisk her out of the CBI and away from it all. She turned back to him. "You didn't murder anyone. I know you didn't. Can you tell me who you saw on Tuesday?"

His words seemed to trigger something inside of her. One minute she was broken and silent and the next she was a flurry of action. "Leave me the hell alone, Jane!! Get out!"

He was surprised at her outburst, but she hadn't been herself today. Yesterday. She sounded so angry, so disgusted, that he nodded. "I'll give you a few minutes. I know this is hard. But it's going to be okay. Really."

He was hardly out the door when he heard the sound of shattering glass. Seeing a chair skid across the ground in the bullpen, he knew immediately that it had been Lisbon. He was back in her office in a matter of minutes. He found her in a rage, single-mindedly destroying anything she could touch. "Lisbon!"

He grabbed her, trying to hold her still against his body, but she was stronger than her petite body made her seem. After all, she was an agent and he merely a consultant. He heard voices behind him.

"Grab her."

"Lisbon! Calm down!"

"Pull out your cuffs."

"Agent Lisbon, we're taking you into custody."

This wasn't her. It just wasn't. Jane was thinking it. Her team was thinking it. And, as if from the end of a distant tunnel, Lisbon was thinking it. It was like watching a catastrophe unfold from an airtight, soundproof glass cube.

Jane knew it was only a matter of time before she really snapped. He had to find out the truth about Tuesday.

Before she slipped out of his grasp just like his family had. Before he lost her.


	5. Sedate

Sorry—yesterday was crazy. If possible, I'll try to write and post the next one tonight.

"**I've got a memory of your warm skin in my hand and I've got a vision of blue sky and dry land…"**

**Chapter Five: Sedate**

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Jane paused in the doorway, staring at the figure in front of him. She was sitting on the bench, head tilted back against the wall. Eyes shut. So very still. A big change from less than a half hour ago when he could barely recognize her.

He headed toward her. "Lisbon."

She jolted at the sound of her name and, opening her eyes, turned her head slowly toward him. The green of her eyes was dull and lifeless. Not what he was used to. He'd seen them disappointed, shining with amusement, fiery with determination, snapping with ire, but never had they been like this.

And he hated it.

He sat down next to her, making sure to block the view of the guards behind him. He grasped her hand tightly. "Lisbon. A medic will be coming in under the guise of giving you a bit of a sedative. In actuality, I want him to take a blood sample. Do you understand?"

Her expression hardly changed, but she gave a short nod. He sighed, relieved. Although it was even more unlike her to not ask questions, he knew it would make things run more smoothly this way. He lifted his unoccupied hand and slid it around her neck, tangling in her hair. Moving forward, he leaned his forehead into hers.

He wanted to do more. Oh, how he wanted…

Her skin was cool, but warmed quickly against his. Their noses brushed against one another and if Jane closed his eyes, he could imagine that this was a very different scenario. "I'm here for you, Lisbon."

The air from his words drifted across her lips and she closed her eyes. She couldn't believe that she was letting him so close. She couldn't even resist Jane in the best of mindsets. How could she expect to do so when she was feeling so adrift?

This was blowing all of her boundaries out of the water, but she found that she needed this. Needed him. She felt calm, even though she knew it could only get harder from here on out. She felt as if she had finally spotted land from her position in the roiling sea.

This must be what it felt like to be saved.

His fingers wound themselves through her hair up against the back of her head. He spoke again. "You know what you have to do, right?"

And she did.

******************************************************************

Minelli watched Jane and Lisbon through the glass. He had been on the job for a long time and seen a lot, but he knew that this was one of the most touching scenes he had had the privilege of witnessing. Two damaged people—he refused to think of either of them as broken—finding what they needed in one another. Against the odds.

And circumstances had never allowed them to acknowledge that fact.

And now this. Minelli had long since accepted that life wasn't fair, but standing there watching his best agent with the man that everyone thought was dead inside…well, he wished that life could throw an easy toss just this once.

One moment everything was calm inside the room and the next Lisbon had pushed Jane away. She leapt up, yelling at him while he held his hands up in an appeasing manner. Minelli sighed, signaling for the medic to go in with the sedative. Knowing that the Lisbon he knew would be mortified at her behavior, Minelli turned his back to the room and trusted that Jane would work his magic and aid the medic. The guards hurried to follow his example.

Inside, Jane smiled in satisfaction. It was going so well.

****************************************************************

Once Lisbon was settled, Jane headed straight for the team. They were sitting at their desks, not working and not even bothering to hide that fact.

"What's up, guys?"

They turned almost in unison and glared at him. "What's wrong with you, Jane? We just watched the boss have a mental breakdown and be dragged away by Bosco's team. And _that's_ what you ask us?"

The slight smile fell from Jane's face. His hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels and gave a solemn nod. "Completely right, of course. Don't know what I was thinking."

Van Pelt powered down a bit, losing the indignant tenseness in her muscles.

Jane stood still. "Just thought maybe you'd all want in on the plan to exonerate Lisbon. Sorry to trouble you."

Silence reined for a moment as Jane turned to walk away.

"Jane!"

"Get back here!"

"What are you talking about?!?"

Jane turned back to them with a grin.

Hook. Line. Sinker.


	6. Right

Thanks to Lisa15 for telling me the name of the guy Lisbon is accused of murdering: William McTeir (we think). The label I write of was shown twice (!) in the preview so I used it as a springboard for ideas in this fic. And I just don't like the psychiatrist. Thanks for the reviews. This may be a bit fast, but this chapter will wrap it up most of the way followed by one more chapter after. Hope it all makes sense, but feel free to tell me if I could clarify more (there will be _some_ in the next chapter). Eek!! Tomorrow's Thursday!!! Soooooo excited. O_O

"…**and they can call me crazy if I fail—all the chance that I need is one-in-a-million and they can call me brilliant if I succeed…"**

**Chapter Six: Right**

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Cho stared at the man in front of him. "So let me get this straight, Jane."

Jane nodded magnanimously. "Go ahead."

"You think that the actual murderer is a serial killer church extremist from Louisiana and is framing Lisbon?"

Jane nodded cheerfully. Cho sighed as Rigsby and Van Pelt simply looked at the consultant incredulously. "Is this one of your oh-so-wonderful 'hunches' or do you have actual proof?"

The mentalist put both hands over his heart dramatically. "You wound me, Cho. Of _course_ I have proof."

"Aside from the fact that the victim tied his shoes a certain way?" Rigsby asked sarcastically. Jane frowned slightly.

"I'm not so ridiculous."

There was silence. Jane looked around, eyes landing on Van Pelt.

"Am I?"

She shrugged and opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by Cho.

"Later. Tell us what you have."

Jane leaned back into his couch after glancing around to make sure they had enough privacy. "The real murderer is a church extremist from a small town near New Orleans, Louisiana. I think you'll find that a lot of molesters in that area—maybe the whole state—have been murdered in the last seven years or so. This guy was probably connected to a victim of the lately deceased McTeir and sought revenge—God's right hand, reaping justice, so on and so forth. Whatever. McTeir goes up for parole and gets it, our Louisiana friend hears about it, and voila! We have a dead ex-con and Lisbon as a convenient scapegoat."

"I'm hearing theory, but not evidence." Cho crossed his arms. Rigsby and Van Pelt watched the scene with wide eyes. Jane shook a finger at the skeptical agent.

"Here's the fun part." He stood and spread out photos of the scene. He pointed to a close-up of the label on the interior of the case that was holding the body. "Here. See the shipping label? 'Mission Shipping and Freight Services'? It's based in Louisiana and obviously religiously affiliated as we can tell with their lovely cross logo. I bet if Van Pelt looks up owners or board members and cross-references that with McTeir's victims or victims' family members, we'll get a hit."

"That's not enough to tie someone else to his murder," Rigsby admitted grudgingly.

"Yes, but if we find a hit there and look at his phone records, I bet we'll find some very interesting phone calls have been made. For example, to our own Dr. Carmen. I've sent a sample of the coffee from his office that Lisbon drank this morning down to be tested as well as a sample of Lisbon's blood. I'm pretty sure she's been drugged repeatedly. Likely a different drug today than the night of the murder, but the good Dr. Carmen had access to various kinds…" Jane trailed off. The air practically hummed with energy as the team picked up the argument.

"Van Pelt, after you're done looking into Mission Shipping and Freight Services, check out Dr. Carmen's finances. If he needed the money or has had any irregular deposits, that's another notch in our argument. Rigsby, go down and see if you can muscle the lab into rushing those tests." Cho instinctively directed the team in Lisbon's absence. Turning back to Jane, he paused. "Why Lisbon? It could have been anyone. Why her?"

Jane sobered. "Because she's a good person. I'm sure this guy has kept an eye on the agent who put McTeir away. He's obviously unstable so I wouldn't be surprised if her competent police work combined with that cross necklace she always wears made him choose her."

The team still looked confused so Jane elaborated. "She was chosen as a martyr for the cause. In his mind, it's an honor."

The team was horrified. Van Pelt couldn't imagine someone abusing religious belief in such a way. How could anyone mold such a pure thing into something so twisted? In an effort to stop herself from thinking about it too much, she sat down and started her work. Rigsby scurried down the hall as quickly as his large frame would allow.

Cho turned. He wasn't a novice at computer work. Probably not as good as Van Pelt, but good nonetheless. It was time to look into any unsolved criminal murders in Louisiana. This was all a bit crazy, but really. Jane's theories were hardly ever normal. And almost always right.

And Cho really, really wanted him to be right.


	7. Resolutions

Wow, where'd that little bit of VP/Rigsby come from?? Anyway, this is the end for those who are not Jisbon fans. I will have an epilogue later (maybe in a few days?) for those who are Jisbon to the core. Last chapter before the epilogue—and the new episode is in mere HOURS!!!!!!

"**I don't care if they eat me alive. I've got better things to do than survive."**

**Chapter Seven: Resolutions**

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Rigsby looked around the office in surprise. Huh. Jane had been right. About everything. Sure, he was glad Lisbon was free of charges, but wow. All that in one day.

Van Pelt had confirmed that Dr. Carmen had been sinking further into debt for the last eighteen months, but had recently been receiving hefty deposits. An a closer look at the inventory of medications he had access to revealed that amounts—so small that they would normally go unnoticed—had disappeared. Conveniently, drugs used specifically as sedatives as well as those that induced short-term memory loss, paranoia, and aggressive behavior.

When confronted by Rigsby and Cho, the doc had crumbled like a cookie left in water. Given up what he knew of his contact, which had only been a name and a phone number.

Apparently, it had been easy for Dr. Carmen to drug Lisbon. He had profiled her, pinned down her daily behaviors. And when she wasn't drinking his coffee, he could easily figure out a way to drug her own. Agents tended to let their guard down a bit at their own headquarters.

Rigsby wondered if he would ever feel at ease here again.

Van Pelt and Cho had worked magic and tracked the unsub through bank and phone records. The killer hadn't tried too hard to cover his tracks. You know, grace of God on his side and all. What a nutcase.

In the end, they had found travel records for the man and discovered him staying at a local church. Close enough to watch his plan unfold. To watch an innocent woman sentenced to a life behind bars all because she had done her job and captured a criminal. Weird how things worked out…

When they had gone to bring him in for questioning (by this time, they had quite a bit of evidence, including the testimonies of the other eyewitnesses of the McTeir murder—all of which had been paid off), he had snapped. Ranting at them about justice and morality, he had attacked Cho before being contained. Cho, the consummate and unflappable professional that he was, had hardly batted an eye. Reciting the Miranda in a monotonous continuum, he cuffed the man and headed for the car.

And just like that, Lisbon was exonerated. All because of Jane's hunch. How long would it have taken for them to figure that out? _Would_ they have? Rigsby hated to admit it, but probably not. None of them—not one—had looked so hard, had _worked_ so hard for Lisbon. He felt ashamed just thinking about it. This clinched it. They needed Lisbon. Their team was only a team because of her. She kept them together.

Through the blinds of Lisbon's office, Rigsby saw Jane hovering by her desk as she sat slumped in her chair. He glanced to Van Pelt's desk and saw her there, head in her hands. Swallowing heavily, he made a snap decision.

"Van Pelt."

She looked up. Her expression showed how upset she was by the case. Not just Lisbon being fingered for murder, but the fact that someone so close had had a hand in it. Someone working with them. At the Bureau.

Rigsby gave a little half smile, unaware that it made the redhead's heart skip a beat. "Want to grab a bite to eat?"

She seemed surprised, then composed herself, smiling at him in that soft way of hers that made him realize that this was it for him. "That would be great, Rigsby."

Together, they gathered their stuff and left. Eventually they'd get over it. Not now. Not tomorrow, but someday.

Rigsby grinned as he looked down on the woman walking beside him.

Someday.

***********************************************************

"Gonna be okay?"

Lisbon looked up to Jane, feeling a bit nauseous. "Of course."

Her tone allowed for no argument, but, of course, it was Jane. "The medic said you'd feel a little sick for the rest of the day. Just a remainder of coming off being drugged consistently. You really should go see a doctor just to be on the safe side."

"I'm done for a while with doctors," she said a little bitterly.

"He was a psychiatrist. Doctors are different," Jane reminded, watching her carefully. She shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. Too close for comfort at the moment."

They fell silent, each unsure where to go from there. The past couple of days had been both awful and blurred for Lisbon. She looked down to her hands, seeing them clasped tightly together.

"Thank you."

Jane jerked a little in surprise. "Wha—"

Lisbon didn't allow him to finish. "Thank you. For believing in me. For fighting for me."

She glanced up at him quickly. "For saving me."

"You'd do the same for me," he said positively. She shook her head.

"You don't understand. When you came in after my outburst, I—well, you just…you anchored me in a way I haven't felt in years." Bending her body over in her chair, she rested her forehead against her desk. "I can't believe I just told you that."

Jane remained quiet, sensing she needed to get this out. He thought that maybe he needed to hear it, too.

"Feeling your hand in mine brought me back. I don't know really where I was or where I was going, but it wasn't good. And you kept me here." She lifted her head, hesitating a moment before meeting his steady gaze. "You saved me."

They watched each other.

His voice was tender when he spoke again. "Like I said, you'd do the same for me."

And in that moment, Lisbon knew that even if what they had wasn't love, even if it wasn't friendship, it was special. It was indefinable. And it was theirs.

At that moment, she didn't care about her job. She didn't care about her past. Didn't care if Minelli was standing right outside her door, didn't care about what would happen after.

She stood and started toward him. He met her halfway, enveloping her in his arms.

And though neither of them spoke, they each found a comfort in the other that they found they absolutely needed. He wondered how he had gotten so dependent on her, how she didn't even notice it. She wondered if she should step away, get further from her strange addiction. But, once more, she couldn't.

In his arms, she didn't focus on her breathing, on her heartbeat, on the fact that she was alive.

She focused on him. And the fact that she wasn't alone.

Not anymore.


	8. Epilogue: Swandive

Warning: Jisbon ahoy! Again, jump ship if you prefer to leave it at the last chapter. That said: okay, here's the Jisbon epilogue! It's been a while (sooooo sorry!!) so just a quick reminder that this epilogue goes with my story (interpretation of Red Badge) and not the actual ep. I hope you enjoy it. I actually really like it (is that really bad and immodest??). Please let me know if there are any mistakes as I just finished writing it.

**Epilogue: Swandive**

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**

Things had changed.

Oh, not outright. Not really on her side. She was still as confused as ever, as wary as ever. Didn't know what Jane was to her. What she was to Jane.

The only difference was that she didn't really care anymore. Whatever they were or weren't, they were gonna be there. For each other. And she found that that was enough.

But Jane…well, Jane had changed in the last month. He watched her more. Tender eyes, soft smile. Thoughtful gestures. Coffee in hand for her in the mornings.

It made her laugh, almost. Of course he would notice that she didn't drink the coffee at headquarters anymore. Sure, she'd probably get over it. She trusted her team. She'd start to trust the employees at CBI again. Someday. But…just not yet. The memory of a fuzzy mind was too near.

It would be funny…if it wasn't so tragic. But hey, story of her life, she supposed.

"Shouldn't you call it quits for the night?"

She looked up at the sound of his voice. The corner of her eyes crinkled in a slight smile as she saw him leaning against her doorframe, illuminated only by her lone office light. The rest of the building had effectively shut down for the night. "I will."

He smirked, noting her avoidance of naming a time frame to stop for the night. "Soon?"

She leaned back. Touché. She couldn't get anything past him. And it still rankled a little, still irritated. Especially when she felt that he had read every chapter in her book and she could barely make it past his prologue. But even as that annoyance ran through her, it was paired with a strange sort of acceptance. If she was getting soft around him, she didn't think there was anything she could do about it. "Don't worry about me, Jane. I've got it under control."

Even she didn't quite know if she was talking about her paperwork or her life in general.

Her words drained the smug expression from his face. Serious now (something that she inexplicably dreaded), he strode forward to her desk. Sitting in the chair across from her, separated only by her desk, he surveyed her with an intensity that disarmed her—even if she was beginning to get used to it. She didn't speak. Didn't know what to say. What he wanted. Why he watched her like that now. Why he watched her at all.

Couldn't he just make it a little easier on both of them? Ignore the odd tension, the weird zing between them. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, it was.

"Teresa," he started and she sighed at the use of her first name, "I don't think I can stop that easily."

She quickly thought back to her statement, wondering what he was saying. He couldn't stop worrying about her?

"I think it's well established that I can take care of myself, Jane," she replied gently, insistently. His eyes burned blue with emotions that she couldn't characterize. Didn't want to.

"Can you?" He responded and she thought that he really wondered, really didn't know the answer to that. Agitated, she stood and turned from him, grabbing her bag and coat.

"You're right. I can finish this paperwork in the morning."

She headed for the door, moving forward with one foot in front of the other until suddenly she wasn't. She registered his arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind, holding her in place with his face pressed into her hair.

"Don't run."

"Jane…" She warned. He cut her off.

"Please."

That voice—so desperate, so hoarse, so emotional. Not like the Jane she saw every day at work. The Jane who was either cold and heartless or mischievous and flippant. The crack in his façade made her own that much weaker. She was suddenly glad that her back was to him and he couldn't read her expression.

"I don't think this is right."

He cleared his throat and when he spoke, a little of his teasing made its way back into his voice. "That's your problem, Agent Lisbon. You shouldn't be thinking at a time like this."

She felt his small, hopeful smile against her temple as he leaned forward, leaned into her. "And what should I be doing, Jane?"

His grip turned from gently constraining to tenderly cradling. His hands slid underneath her arms, wrapping around her waist. "_Feel_. Just feel, Teresa."

He pressed his lips to her temple, imprinting a kiss where moments before his smile had rested. She closed her eyes, emotions conflicting within. She shouldn't do this. He was a bad addiction. She had admitted it. But that didn't mean that she should encourage it. Dive into it.

He turned her in his arms and cupped her face with both hands. Almost involuntarily, her hands clutched his suit lapels. She stared at the buttons, finding it easier than meeting his gaze. Carefully—oh so cautiously—he leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

She knew they both had issues.

He slid his mouth to her brow.

It really wouldn't work out.

A small press of his lips on her cheekbone.

He had his vendetta and she had her lawbook.

A match for the other cheekbone.

Both wore shields: he his ring and she her badge.

A playful kiss on the tip of her nose.

…but they needed each other.

A kiss to the side of her mouth, lingering. Wanting.

That's when she decided it was all over.

Their breaths mingled, reminding her of that day a month ago when he had brought her back. When he had saved her, foreheads touching. One of the few to believe in her. To stabilize her.

And as their lips met, she had the brief time to think that it was much like a swandive.

Only just enough time to realize that it was probably a stupid decision, that it could destroy you, but then you were flying through the air. Free. Wind in your face. Hoping for someone to catch you at the bottom, eyes closed tight. And then everything was spinning, lost in sensation as you fell.

When Teresa Lisbon opened her eyes, Patrick Jane stood in front of her.

She wondered if that meant she had survived the swandive.

And knew she was lost when she didn't care as long as he was there every time.


End file.
